Fina

Oscar Wilde —

"The curves of your lips rewrite history.”

—

A swathe of black stretched across the canvas
As if an attempt to tear apart
Those two magnificent hues
So clearly forged from the same source

—

Raindrops fell against the windows,
as we shook out the tablecloth
and strewed it across the floor.
We laid out our brightest dishes,
candles and whatever else we had on hand.
Like children playing make-believe,
we sat down to our picnic,
transported to our memories in the Pyrenees,
relishing in a feast fit for a king.

Fey

George Eliot —

Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.

—

They strolled through the labyrinth of manicured hedges and carefully cultivated
plants. Their laughter echoed across the land, their wild hearts and poetic souls transforming it into a secret garden of their own.

F. Scott Fitzgerald —

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”